THIRD PERSON
Morning light spills gently across the pack grounds. For once, there is laughter before duty.
At the center of it, Elara kneels in the grass, her silver hair loose over her shoulders as two small figures circle her in uneven, playful steps.
The twins. Stronger now. Faster. Their golden eyes no longer flicker, they glow.
“You can’t keep calling them ‘the twins,’” a voice says from behind.
Alpha Scavia steps forward, arms folded, watching them with quiet pride.
Elara glances up at him. “I’ve been waiting,” she says softly.
“For what?”
“For it to feel right.”
He studies her. Then the children. “Does it?” he asks.
Elara looks at them again. The girl, fearless, bright, already leading. The boy, calm, observant, steady. And something settles in her.
“Yes,” she says.
She
